


Panic Drills

by syrupfactory



Category: Terminator (Movies), Terminator: Dark Fate
Genre: F/F, One Shot, POV Female Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupfactory/pseuds/syrupfactory
Summary: Sometime around 2040, you're a solider in the human resistance against Legion. After a battle, you end up taking shelter with your fellow warrior, Grace, while the two of you wait out a storm.
Relationships: Grace Harper/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 106





	Panic Drills

**Author's Note:**

> This extremely self-indulgent fic is set before the events of Dark Fate, prior to Grace being augmented. Contains a major spoiler!
> 
> ([title insp](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SMjulzT7660))

You open your eyes and start coughing. For a moment, that’s all you can do, rolling onto your side until the dusty feeling is out of your throat. Heaving a breath when it finally subsides, you drop to your back again, panting. 

The sky is dark above you, illuminated by a nearly full moon. 

No matter how much time passes, the sight of the moon always comforts you just a little. It’s familiar. It reminds you of riding in the car as a child. Of looking out windows. When cars and windows were still part of your daily life. As long as the moon is the same, you can pretend for a second that the world hasn’t gone to shit. 

Suddenly, there’s a sound nearby. Maybe footsteps. You sit up, but you can’t see if anyone—or anything—is approaching. 

Your right foot is trapped in a narrow spot between two chunks of debris; you had taken a wrong step and fallen, you recall. With the sounds of the battle falling into the distance, you allowed yourself to drift to sleep—you were deeply tired, and there was nothing else to do. Besides, if a Terminator found you while you were stuck and out of ammo … it’s not like being awake would have made a difference.

Hopefully help is coming, now. But you know better than to call out just in case. And then there’s a light shining right on you. You shield your eyes. 

“Hey! There you are,” comes a familiar voice. 

The light shifts away and she steps closer. It’s Grace, one of your fellow soldiers in the resistance against Legion. Out of everyone, she’s the one who’s come back for you. The two of you have had the passing conversation here and there, and you like her—alright, a _ little _more than that—but you’re still mildly surprised to see her.

“My foot—” you start, realizing she’s already noticed. 

“Alright, I’m gonna wedge these apart, but you have to be fast. Are you ready?”

You nod. She gets a piece of scrap metal in the gap, prying it open just wide enough for you to pull free before letting go again. Finally, you can scramble to your feet.

“You alright?” she asks. “Can you walk?”

Your ankle feels pretty sore but not too bad. “I think I’m good, yeah.”

Just then, there’s a rumble through the air, and you’re both immediately on alert. Shortly after, there comes a flash of lightning, followed by another rumble. 

“That’s close,” she says. “We gotta take shelter and wait this out.”

After you’ve pulled on your backpack, she links her arm through yours for support, and the two of you find the shell of an old building with sufficient cover and duck inside. Sheltered, Grace props her flashlight against a wall, which gives the space a mild ambiance. You both set down your gear and get your helmets off, and Grace cards a hand through her short blonde hair. Her face is dirty, and yours is probably worse. You remember the first time you saw her—so brave and strong, but with a surprisingly warm smile. 

She passes you her water bottle and you take a grateful sip. The two of you sit for a while, catching your breaths, while flashes of lightning and claps of thunder become more frequent, and the air grows cooler. The rest of your squad will be back at the bunker by now.

“Dani and the others—” you start to ask.

Grace nods and wipes her lips with her forearm. “They were fine.”

She was probably assigned to turn back for you, you realize.

“Thank you… For coming back.”

You’re expecting a _ don’t-mention-it _ shrug or something similar, but she meets your gaze, looking almost amused. 

“I wouldn’t leave without _ you_,” she says, reaching over to nudge your knee. And you can tell she means it. 

After another flash of light and louder crack of thunder, rain starts coming down in sheets. You both turn to hear it rushing somewhere close by and spot a gap where water is trickling into the room from above. As the rain gains a burst of force, the leak becomes a torrent, flowing into a crack in the floor and presumably filling a reservoir below.

Grace looks at you with something like a twinkle of excitement in her big blue eyes.

“I don’t know about you,” she says, standing and starting to undress. “But I haven’t had a good fucking shower in a while.”

You laugh. She strips. You try not to watch too closely, but she doesn’t seem to care either way—you do notice a fairly large bruise on her lower back. 

Nude, she steps into the steady flow of water. 

“Holy SHIT, that’s cold,” she calls, laughing.

She lets it wash over her, closing her eyes and running her hands over her hair. She is radiant. Tall and slender and well-muscled. A goddess like her should be worshiped, you find yourself thinking. 

None of you have any idea how long you’ll live. You can’t sit passively and let moments like this pass you by. If you don’t take a chance, you’ll regret it. Even if she’s not interested, at least you’ll know.

You pull off your boots. If Grace notices what you’re doing, she doesn’t turn, preoccupied with her rainwater shower. As you undress, you notice your hands are shaking. 

What’s Dani always saying? _ If you find a sliver of happiness in this world, you hold onto it with both hands, and you don’t let go. _

Gathering your courage, with the cool breeze across your bare skin, you step up beside Grace and hold out your hand, just to feel a few icy drops on your palm.

“Ah! Shit,” you exclaim, withdrawing. “That _ is _cold.”

Grace faces you and smiles. “It’s better when you get used to it.”

She offers her hand. Alright. You take it. She pulls you close—so close that you’re both under the stream, and then closer still, taking you into a full embrace you hadn’t expected. The cold shock of the water is almost painful, and her skin isn’t much warmer. But she holds you. And you hold her as tightly as you can, trying to avoid her bruise by memory. Eyes shut, you breathe through your mouth a few times, and the rain picks up even more. 

After some time, it doesn’t feel as cold. 

You’re not sure which of you moves to kiss the other first, or if you both do it in the same moment, but the end result is that your lips are on hers and she’s kissing you back _ hard_, like she wants it just as badly. 

When you’re able to pull away just enough, you move to trail kisses down her neck and feel her heave a sigh against you. Her skin tastes like rainwater, and she leans into you when you run your tongue across her earlobe. 

Feeling bolder by the second, you drop one of your hands to rake your fingers across her strong thigh. Without any hesitation, she covers your hand and presses it into the thick of her pubic hair. _ Fuck_. You have to bite your lip, letting your forehead rest against her shoulder as you start to work her clit with your middle finger. 

“Oh, god,” she gasps in a breathy whisper you can barely hear over the storm.

One of her legs starts to tremble as you’re rubbing her, and she laughs. Getting an idea, you withdraw your hand for the moment and kiss her again, taking her by the hips and easing her backwards—she understands and moves with you until her back is against the wall. 

No longer under the stream, you kiss her with renewed fervor, which she reciprocates. And honestly, you could keep doing that for hours, if you had the time. Instead, you pull back and drop to your knees, looking her in the eyes all the while. She smirks and widens her stance. 

Holding her labia apart, you find her clit again, with your tongue this time, and start with a few slow licks. Her back arches as she steadies herself on your shoulders, and you hear her gasp again. Working up to a steady pace, you run your other hand up her inner thigh and tease her entrance—fuck, she’s wet, and not just from rain—with a finger for a moment before slipping it in and marveling at her warmth.

The air is cold and the floor hurts your knees, but you’ve never been so gleefully uncomfortable in your entire life as you work her toward her peak, exploring with your tongue and pressing and easing, now with two fingers, at the spot just behind her pubic bone.

She nearly cries out and then remembers herself, cutting off her own voice and whimpering instead. She’s close. You keep a steady pace, just like that, letting it build. Her right knee jerks, and you can tell that’s the sensitive side of her clit, so you give it lots of attention. She holds onto your shoulders like she’s holding on for dear life.

When she comes, she throws her head back and whines one long closed-mouth cry, and you can feel her body pulsating around your fingers. When she goes limp against the wall, you withdraw, standing, and wincing a little at how stiff your knees feel. 

Grace gives you a tired smile and pulls you into a kiss, but then something else catches her attention.

“Oh, shit!”

When you turn, you find that the water has overflowed its reservoir and is flooding the floor space—Grace is already grabbing up her things to move them, and you follow suit. Your head is left spinning from all you’ve done, and you can’t help but smile a little, even if it’s ended rather abruptly. 

After you’ve relocated to a dry area, she takes her jacket and lays it flat on the ground, and then takes yours and does the same. You’re not sure why, but then she’s kissing you again, so you don’t care.

“Come here,” she says next to your ear. “Lie down with me.”

You lie together on the jackets, which are only a slight improvement over the concrete floor. She nudges your shoulder to get you onto your back and is then above you, using her knee to coax your legs apart. You’re happy to comply with that, and she settles against you, rocking her mons against your clit. You have to bite your lip again. Somehow, this is even more surreal than what came before, and she’s _ so fucking beautiful._ You want to tell her that, but the words can’t find their way out.

She kisses you, still rocking against you, and then moves to lie beside you, kissing your neck and ear. Before you’ve fully processed any of it, she’s rubbing you with her hand. Despite the cold air, your face is burning, and you shift your legs to give her better access, taking her face in your hand and kissing her again. 

Still working you with only one hand, she slips a finger inside while her thumb still strokes your clit—fuck, it’s so fucking _ good_. It’s been a while, but you can’t remember it ever feeling so—

“_Ah_!” 

The involuntary moan escapes your throat, and she sweetly shushes you, kissing your face and lips. You’ve nearly forgotten how to think now, and your back arches without your permission when you feel the blissful swell of your orgasm building. 

“That’s it,” she whispers in encouragement, pressing another kiss to your jaw while the pad of her thumb sends glorious sparks through your whole body.

When you come, it absolutely _ crashes _through you, like pleasant lightning that you can feel all the way down to your toes. You’re gripping fistfuls of jacket and throwing your head back as her hand keeps going, riding it out. 

Your body goes limp when it’s over, and she withdraws her hand, lying quietly beside you. After you’ve had a moment to catch your breath, you laugh. Well, it’s more like a giggle. And then you can’t stop. You cover your mouth, but your shoulders are shaking. 

Quickly, and without overthinking it, you roll to face her and pull her into a new kiss, so that she doesn’t mistake your weird laughing fit for something it’s not. When you meet her eyes, though, she’s smiling right along with you. 

Somewhere behind you, there’s a thud, like a rock tumbling to the floor, and in the blink of an eye, Grace is sitting upright with a pistol in her hand. You freeze, waiting. There’s only the sound of rain, which has slowed considerably. Some piece of rubble probably just came loose in the storm. 

Grace puts her gun down and resettles beside you, moving your hair out of your face and then taking you into her strong arms and holding you again. You gladly curl against her, and with your head on her chest, you can hear her heartbeat. 

After a while, the breeze wins out, and you both scramble for your clothes. When you’re dressed again, you notice belatedly that Grace is having trouble keeping her eyes open. 

“You should rest,” you say. “I’ll keep watch.”

She gives you a cautious glance. “You sure?”

You nod, dropping to sit with your back against the wall and your legs straight out in front of you. You pat your thigh. 

She takes the invitation and lies beside you, resting her head in your lap. You can’t resist running your fingers through her damp hair and down her arm, and she sighs, her eyes fluttering shut. 

“Wake me up at dawn,” she says. “Or if you hear anything.”

“I will.”

She’s out pretty fast. You’re glad to be her pillow… And her protector, for a change. Watching her sleep so peacefully, you’re idly swept up into a silly daydream about a life the two of you could lead if things were different. If the war was over, or if it had never happened. Maybe you could have a house with a long porch, and you’d fall asleep in a hammock together. Maybe you’d have a garden and drink fresh lemonade and wear a sun hat. Maybe you’d love her. Maybe she’d love you.

When the first whisper of sunlight creeps into the sky, the rain long gone, you give her shoulder a gentle shake. She stirs and smiles at you, and the two of you take up your gear and head out for the walk to the bunker. 

The sunrise paints the sky pink and orange as you walk in silence, Grace leading. Sometime later, it’s given way to bright sunlight, in harsh contrast to the stormy night’s darkness. Just as you’re wondering if everything will reset between you, now that you’re not stuck in a “cave” together, Dani appears from around a corner. 

“Buenos dias, you two!” she calls. 

“Holy shit,” Grace replies, throwing her arms around your leader. “What are you doing out here?”

“We had to take shelter, too. Not enough time to make it to the bunker before the storm hit,” she says, giving you something like an amused glance. “I, uh, came back to tell you, but it looked like you could use the privacy.”

Abruptly, your face is burning hot. Grace shoves Dani’s shoulder, and they both laugh. 

“Wait, you really came all the way out there and found us?” Grace asks.

Dani grins at her. “No, not really. Just testing a theory, amiga.”

Grace drops her jaw and then laughs again, shaking her head. “Damn you!”

Looking pleased with herself, Dani turns, and the two of you fall in line behind her. Grace gives you a wink and throws her arm around you as you walk back to regroup. You realize two things: She’s _ not _ going to pretend that last night was anything other than what it was, and she _ definitely _doesn’t care if everyone knows. 

This is way more than a sliver of happiness. You can’t fight your smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This fic can be reblogged on tumblr [here](https://meowdejavu.tumblr.com/post/188888808863/panic-drills-gracereader-ff-3k-words). 
> 
> I might end up adding a second chapter...


End file.
